I’m sorry I haven’t posted. I’m daunted by the task, and can’t give you as much as I’d like, for all of the expected reasons: Increased pain and shortness of breath, weakness and shakiness (?). Forgive typos.

Last Sunday, Fr John was here. He had come to give me Communion, and we were talking afterward when a string of other parishioners arrived. Dr Bob had brought twenty to carole me from the other side of the mountain.

I managed to mostly keep it together; Christopher was not. He has been very moved by the actions of Holy Trinity and her clergy. I hope and pray that after Christ takes me, he and the church will continue to heal one another.

Oh you heard something about the nor’easter that hit. Boy, did it, but not as bad as they’d predicted. Weather report said sleet and freezing rain every day, and we tunred out to ave only one of those, thank God. If our roles were reversed, this would be hell for me, as scared of heights as I am.

Christmas Day began very bad, Christmas here, and all. Christopher arrived in his Santa cap when Sharon, Brook, and Stacy, three nurses aides, were here and I was recovering from a particularly excrutiation pain spam.

Sharon was crying as she took my hand and said this was going to be the best Christmas ever because I was surrounded by people who loved me. That’s when I started crying, when I realized the truth of what she said, and we had a room of ten wet eyes.

Everything was uphill after that.

Christopher is on I-99 now, but they canceled my brother’s flight. April is on her way.

I’ve been noticeably worse the last couple of days. However, Christopher called at 10:00 from the driveway as he was pulling out to drive down here, so he should be here at the latest by 11. And Marlin and Linda are dropping by on their way out of town, so I should be able to get them to stay until Christopher gets here.

Every morning between 8 and 9 I get my first dose of meds, and whie in terms of Methadone, it’s the same as the other, I also get a bunch of other pills and capsules. The result is waves of nausea. I haven’t thrown anything up yet, but I dread that first dose every day.

Instead of paying attention to med shifts, and getting up around 1 or so at the latest, but I decided to wait until 2-ish, when Christopher would be there. I will never do that again.

Being moved in that hydraulic lift can be excruciating. That, then being plunked down into the chair, then being jerked around to adjust me, well, it just ain’t pleasant. Suffice it to say that right after being seated is the only time I always need a breakthrough Methadone.

However, it turned out I was way at the last strings of the Methodone, not to mention the aides’ shift. They did the sack of potatoes routine, then ran out. I was miserable, and getting worse every minute. The nurse got me my second base dose, but finding two aides just coming on duty to put me back to bed seemed like it took forever.

Oh, the motor chair came, but I have to have some tech to show me how to drive it. It looks narrow, though, painfully narrow. I’ll reserve my opinion on it, but I suspect we may have to search for another, wider, chair.

Nurse Nancy, the Hospice nurse, brought very good news today. First, to alleviate the worst tendency over the last few weeks, the rapid increase in pain, she called Dr Ellison, my palliative care doctor from Geisinger (Danvile), and he made the following changes:

Base dosage (every 8 hrs, unaffected by breadthrough doses)

20 mg Methadone -> 35 mg Methadone

PRN (breakthrough) doses, not to exceed every three hours, unaffected by base doses.

The progression of the cancer is what it is, of course, but this should make it liveable for a decent period of time.

It wasn’t just the progression, but the location of the pain. It went from displaced to the hips straight to the lungs — that is, the back. Think a metal constriction band squeezing until it crushes your vertebrae and ribs. That’s an accurate, if slightly less intesnse, description.

The control of the pain isn’t just meds. It’s posture. One thing repeatedly that has been recommended is an air mattress. The Hospice found one of imperfect size (long enough, but not wide enough), and we’ll try it.

All but one approval has flown through for a motorized wheelchair. Only one more, and I will, once lifted into it, be able to fly up and down the halls.

Finally, I met the Orthodox chaplain of our Hospice, a Fr Stephen (AOCNA). Sure, I know, I already have two priests and two deacons who see me regularly, but I figure the more, the merrier.

Freezing rain has sealed most everybody in this morning, and Altoona is becoming passable, so Pam et al should be over here soon. Christopher probably won’t be able to get here for another couple of hours.

Contact

rightwingprof*gmail*com
301 Valley View Blvd
Altoona, PA
812-345-1979

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He shall be filled with the spirit of understanding; he shall pour forth his words of wisdom and give thanks to the Lord in his prayer.

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O venerable Herman, ascetic of the northern wilderness and gracious advocate for all the world, teacher of the Orthodox Faith and good instructor of piety, adornment of Alaska and joy of all America: entreat Christ God, that He save our souls.